


respite

by imwithnomad



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gay, Implied Relationships, Maria Hill Feels, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov Feels, No Plot/Plotless, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21996670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imwithnomad/pseuds/imwithnomad
Summary: After, Natasha wraps a towel around Maria. She's careful to avoid her bandaged side. “Nice shirt.” Maria smirks, eyeing her appreciatively.“You won't need it.” Natasha replies, flicking Maria's nipple before limping out of the bathroom.Whatever Maria thought Natasha meant by that--it certainly wasn't the thorough and attentive medical care Natasha apparently planned to provide.Natasha and Maria have to drop off the face of the Earth real quick, both of them are hurt,  both of them are in love. Same difference, really.
Relationships: Maria Hill & Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 163





	respite

**Author's Note:**

> No plot at all, just gals being pals!! Implied existing relationship. Barely edited. This was inspired by a dream I had. Thanks!

Natasha chops half her hair off with the same efficiency that she might clean and load a gun. She uses the sharp edge of her knife. There's a panicked, adrenaline fueled glare still in her eyes despite their escape. She brushes the hair off her shoulders and maria forces her gaze to meet hers by staring until Natasha agrees to look at her. 

When Maria has Natasha's attention, she slips her fingers into the newly short hair, just barely brushing the tops of her shoulders. The intensity hasn't faded from her eyes, she just breathes deep and stares her back. Her hair is sleek, straightened still from the mission. The ends are jagged but still manages to look like maybe a professional did it. 

“it's good,” Maria says mildly, slipping her fingers between silky strands. 

Natasha tracks her, barely noticeable, with her eyes. The comedown is inevitable, but it will be some time before it comes. “you don’t have to come with me.” she mutters, barely audible. Maria can practically hear her teeth gritting together.

Part of the mission required natasha to go dark for a while, since she would be implicated in the death, no matter how accidental they made it look. The problem with the explosion was that when it spread, maria got caught in it. Natasha stayed longer than she should have. Maria has a nasty burn across her cheek, on her shoulder. 

Maria gives her an unimpressed look. Obviously she was going with her until she was needed elsewhere, and Maria made it clear that she would not be available for “elsewhere.” 

“You need to be at the hospital.” Natasha even manages to look angry. 

Maria has to laugh. “You don’t want me at a hospital.” she points out, still touching Natasha’s hair as if they were just sitting together on the couch.

In the back of a utility van racing down the interstate, Natasha huffs in defeat, angry at herself for Maria being hurt. Lightly, she touches Maria's cheek right below the blistered skin. It looks harsh, but it isn't as bad as the burn on her right shoulder, which took a whole chunk of her jacket with it. 

Maria sees her frowning fiercely and grins back. “Mission accomplished, Romanoff.” 

That always, always gets her. Damnit, Maria. Natasha smiles back, mischief glinting despite herself. “Sure is, Hill.” 

That adrenaline surges again, but this time it's good, that electric afterglow of a kill, of a mission gone right because there's so few of them now. Maria kisses Natasha hard and they both taste blood. They leave fingerprints of blood on each others faces, necks. For a minute they forget where they are, bodies numb except where they meet. Maria is half-tempted to push Natasha to the dirty, rough floor and take her there, push and pull until the adrenaline fades out in harsh gasps against Maria’s skin.

The van goes over a bump and they break apart, nearly falling over. Their eyes meet in a knowing gaze, that small thrill of knowing they both wanted the same thing.

In better spirits, Natasha picks up her knife again and holds it experimentally to Maria's collar bone. Maria eyes her with interest, but Natasha cuts her jacket and clothes away where they cover the burned shoulder. It's one, then two quick movements, deliberate and divine in its sureity. Maria releases the breath she was holding through her teeth. Nat is the one to force her gaze this time. “Look at me,” she says. 

Natasha cleans the burn with saline, thorough and efficient. Maria hisses but watches Nat, intent with frown lines trying to form around her mouth. Sweat builds on her brow. 

The first press of gauze on Maria's skin. “Ah, fuck.” she exhales, relieved, tries to remember breathing. "That's better." 

“Your ears still ringing?” Natasha asks conversationally as she rips medical tape with her teeth. 

Maria attempts to laugh. “Yeah.” 

Natasha smiles. “Mine too.” 

Four hours of witty banter and searing pain on Maria’s part later they get to the safe house--a cabin entirely off the grid, disconnected from any incoming or outgoing contact--and Natasha nearly faints as they pull up the driveway. 

“Fucking. Goddamnit. Jesus.” Maria swears, annoyed at herself for ignoring the tension in Natasha's face and more annoyed that Natasha can still hide it from her. 

Maria supports a still talking Natasha as they limp up the front steps. "Wait here," Maria says, propping Nat against the wooden post of the dilapidated porch. 

"Are you kidding me right now? What are you doing?" 

"Clearing the house." Maria replies, her back turned, searching for the loose window pane in the front door that would allow her to safely open the door. The fifth pane she nudges with her fist comes loose and shatters. Ugh. She reaches her arm through the square opening and unlatches the interior deadbolt. 

"This is the security system for this place?" Natasha admonishes, apparently shocked, from immediately behind Maria. "Is there a key under the doormat too?" 

Through much grumbling, they clear the entire house and check the perimeter. After locking everything (and Natasha promising to add her own security measures to the entrance) they collapse on the couch. 

-

Maria wakes up to throbbing pain in her shoulder. She blinks, familiarizes herself with her surroundings. Nat is still asleep, her face tucked in between Maria's shoulder blades, her arm wound tight around Maria's middle. Maria is propped absurdly against nat's weight, facing the back of the couch so that her injured shoulder is in the air. 

Nat looks as comfortable as ever despite still wearing her gear, covered in blood and ash. Her legs tangle tightly with Maria's, surely enough that it will be difficult for Maria to get up. She breathes steadily even as her eyebrows furrow. 

Maria manages to twist around enough to extricate herself without waking Natasha. Loathe she is to leave her when she looks so beautiful, Maria knows she should contact Fury to let him know they're not dead. 

After she sends the signal, she stands in the kitchen and tries to move her shoulder around to ease some of the discomfort but instead just creates the sensation that her skin is ripping apart. She cries out, unable to muffle it in time. 

To no surprise, when Maria crosses back to the living area to find Natasha sat upright on the couch, rooting around in a..suitcase?

“You stole his first aid kit?” Maria asks, amused. 

Natasha doesn't meet her eye but she smiles downward at her task. “Come here.” she says a minute later, flicking a syringe with her middle finger. Maria raises an eyebrow at her but says nothing and settles on the floor. 

Maria unwraps the bandage around her arm and then peel off the gauze, grimacing when it catches on marred flesh. 

“Local anesthetic.” Natasha explains, holding the syringe out. There's a question in her voice too. 

Maria nods and looks the other way so as not to watch. Natasha is quick-she know what it's like to be uneasy around needles-and begins to hum under her breath. The strange rush of liquid fills quick. Natasha tells her she still shouldn't move it but it should go numb soon. 

“Stealing the surgical kit from the van, you take such good care of me baby.” Maria teases, rubbing the spot where the needle poked her skin. 

“Least I could do since you jumped in fire for me." She re-bandages Maria’s shoulder comfortably tight, her cool fingers a godsend to maria’s skin. 

Five minutes later Maria is watching Nat get undressed in the bathroom when the numbness settles in. “Oh, that’s weird.” 

Natasha looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow. The muscles in her back twist and flex with her and the rest of Maria’s limbs tingle too, entirely unrelated to anesthetic. They’re both too hurt to do much of anything, but Maria steps into her space and drops a kiss to her bare shoulder, then another, until she smears the dirt and blood on her neck with her tongue. 

Natasha turns to her and slips her palms up Maria’s sides, still careful because they’re both bruised from the fall they took. She rises on her toes and kisses her--Natasha seems intent on dragging out whatever Maria’s been holding, now, her own adrenaline high already apparently cured by the nap on the couch--she kisses at Maria’s lips soft before sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, pulling maria down to her. There’s no tongue, no teeth, just Natasha moving their lips together with her hand at the back of Maria’s neck. It’s always this--Natasha being tender, soft--that makes Maria especially pliant, especially willing to throw men into fire for her. 

Her thumb presses at a pressure point along Maria’s scalp and a soft moan escapes her mouth before she can stop it, like Natasha’s fingers can just illicit biological reactions Maria didn't know she had. 

“There it is,” Natasha murmurs against her lips, digging her thumb into whatever tension lied there, creating an endless shiver down Maria’s spine. 

At some point Natasha had guided Maria to sitting without her realizing until she opened her eyes and looked up at Natasha instead of down. With Maria’s eyes open, Natasha pulls away, lips swollen and eyelids heavy but alert. “You were tense.” Natasha murmurs, fingers stroking Maria's throat now, as though that sort of treatment needed an explanation. Maria kisses the inside of her wrist.

Natasha looks stupidly beautiful, topless and a mess and covered in bruises that she does amazingly well at hiding the discomfort it certainly creates. Natasha isn’t exactly straddling Maria, but her legs bracket hers as she stands over her, hand on her throat like she holds Maria's life in her hands because fuck if she actually doesn't. Maria touches her, fingers grazing lightly over bruises until goosebumps and pink rise to her skin. She’s overcome; she presses her face to Natasha's ’s stomach and breathes her in, presses her mouth against hot skin and tugs at her pants until they’re in a pile on the floor. 

Natasha is breathless, barely audible gasps passing her lips that are music to maria’s ears. Maria hasn’t even touched her yet but she can smell her and it’s intoxicating, the heavy musk of her after a long fucking day. 

“God.” Maria breathes. 

“Maria.” Natasha answers. 

Maria sucks her index and middle fingers in her mouth until she can’t taste blood, and then slips them between Natasha’s lips. She strokes at wet folds, finding her clit and rubbing hard, not wasting time. The muscles in Natasha’s legs tense on either side of Maria's. 

“You’re beautiful,” Maria says, kissing just below her belly button and looking up to watch her head thrown back in equal turns. 

Natasha fists her hands at Maria’s shoulders and rolls her hips, slipping easily over Maria’s hand. Natasha can come like this, Maria knows, but she’s holding it. Don’t go, is what Natasha said once, face flushed and voice beyond wrecked. Please don’t stop touching me. 

Oh, baby, Maria had responded, relentlessly fucking her until she cried out, until she was coming all over Maria's hand despite her best efforts. I’m not going anywhere. 

Above her, Natasha moans brokenly, eyes shut. “Fuck me,” she manages, a wasted sigh. 

A gasp punches out of her throat as Maria slides two fingers into her, curling her wrist hard. She doesn’t pace either of them, just fucks her exactly like she asked. Natasha is forced to abandon Maria’s shoulders to plant her hands against the wall above her head. 

Her abandon is enough for Maria to feel more than flushed. With her free hand she grips Natasha's thigh hard enough to bruise. “Nat, fuck,” 

Maria fucks her a little harder, a little more, with the same type of dedication with which Natasha kissed her, the same level of tenderness. Natasha comes like a shockwave, Maria rolling her wrist until Nat drops into her lap absolutely wasted, unable to hold herself up. Maria’s laugh is quiet joy, pulling her fingers free to cup Natasha’s face and kiss her, hold her close as possible. Natasha still moans soft at her lips, still out of breath when Maria pulls away. 

Her arm has wrapped around maria’s good shoulder, fingers stroking at her shoulder blade. Their foreheads rest together as they catch their breath. The come down. 

“you should shower first.” maria comments as she grazes her fingers over Natasha's jaw. “itll take me a lot longer with my shoulder.” 

Natasha seems to consider this, her eyes still hazy and her fingers tracing Maria's skin. “mmhm.” 

“if it makes you feel any better I can watch you from right here.” 

Natasha bites down on a smile. "That might help." 

Natasha eventually extricates herself from Maria's lap. She takes stock of herself in the mirror, apparently deciding none of her injuries are worth bandaging and will survive the shower. She runs the water til the bathroom fills with steam. 

Maria closes her eyes and leans back, however uncomfortable the toilet seat might be. She listens to Natasha hum under her breath and she must start to doze off because some time later she feels water sprinkle her face. 

She catches Natasha's smirk as she vanishes back behind the shower curtain. “Pass me a towel?” she calls innocently. 

Maria fills the bath and hangs her whole right side over the edge to protect the bandaged area. She tries to dip herself as low as possible, goosebumps rising on her skin. Natasha flits in and out in various states of undress. Maria manages to wash most of her body with her one good hand. She's figuring out the best way to dip her head underwater to wash her hair and is about to dunk it when Natasha appears out of nowhere. 

“Don’t, god.” Natasha says, unbelievably perturbed at the sight of Maria about to do something stupid. She kneels on the floor next to the tub. “Let me do it.” 

After, natasha wraps a towel around Maria. She's careful to avoid her bandaged side. “Nice shirt.” Maria smirks, eyeing her appreciatively. 

“You won't need it.” Natasha replies, flicking Maria's nipple before limping out of the bathroom. 

Whatever Maria thought Natasha meant by that--it certainly wasn't the thorough and attentive medical care Natasha apparently planned to provide. 

The next time Maria wakes up it’s to Natasha massaging aloe into the skin of her shoulder, feather light and cool. A shirt would get in the way, Maria thinks she says, but she falls back asleep. Whatever painkiller Natasha managed to smuggle was doing its job. 

It’s hours later and the sun is setting (god, what day is it) when Maria is alert enough to blink her eyes open and look around. Her mind catalogues her surroundings on instinct, it’s less than a second and Maria remembers the back room of the safe house. Wood paneling on the walls, large windows that boast a view of the forest and mountain. The bed, now that the drugs have seemed to wear off, is still surprisingly comfortable. Her shoulder is freshly wrapped and only emits a dull throb. Nice work, she thinks. She’s still topless. 

Next to her, natasha is slumped against the headboard, fast asleep with her eyebrows furrowed. It’s a sure enough sign that, at the very least, she isn’t sleeping restfully. No doubt Natasha hasn’t slept since their crash on the couch, however long ago that was, and has been up watching Maria since then. Her body is curled toward Maria, like she had been trying to stay warm before she inevitably fell asleep. Natasha is just out of reach, Maria only has to lift her palm to rub her knuckle against Natasha’s shin. 

Her eyes open immediately, that half second of panic and confusion crossing her eyes before it disappears. Her eyebrows are still knit together and her eyes are hazy until Maria grazes her skin again. 

“Hey, it’s me.” Maria says softly. Her voice cracks, parched. God, she's dehydrated. 

Natasha visibly relaxes, wakes up. “Sorry.” she mutters. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. How long have I been out?” m6aria slips her palm to hold natasha’s calf, stroking her thumb over smooth skin. 

“Day or so.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Your burn, it’s starting to heal.” 

“Whatever you did, it helped.” Maria says. 

Natasha hums, apparently content. “No word from Fury.” she adds. 

“No word is good.” Maria confirms. It earns her a tired smile. 

“Come down here, will you?” Maria asks, squeezing Nat’s calf. “I’m cold.” she was not, and she’s sure Natasha knows it too. It doesn’t matter; Natasha eases down to rest her head on maria’s good shoulder, her palm sliding up to rest between Maria's ’s breasts. 

Maria takes advantage: kisses her forehead and scratches her fingers at natasha’s back. They don’t need much saying, this is what they do. In a bed or in the field, overexerting themselves for one another, holding nothing back until the other is okay, is safe. 

Natasha stretches her leg over Maria’s and then falls asleep soon after. Maria forces her eyes to stay open to watch her long after the room turns dark and she can only see the shadow of her. Listens to her breathing until it lulls her to sleep. 

The next day they stay in bed for as long as their restless selves will allow. Maria travels her nails along Natasha's back like she never stopped. Nat keeps her eyes closed, mouth open on Maria's chest. Her legs still tangle with Maria's, conserving all the heat in the room between them both. 

When Maria is finally able to secure a shirt that afternoon, she brews herself a coffee, downs another painkiller, and joins Natasha on the front porch overlooking the forest below. 

"You know," Maria begins, "I'm starting to think you purposely did not pack a single shirt that fits me." 

"What gives you that idea?" 

Natasha is facing away toward the sky but Maria can hear the grin in her voice. She's still wearing Maria's t-shirt. 

They sit, Natasha perched on the railing and Maria on the broken porch swing, in a companionable silence. The porch itself is rotting, aged wood visibly sinking toward the middle like it's about to swallow itself whole, but something about it is still comforting. 

Maria steps gingerly over some unstable looking wood planks to stand beside Natasha. "This wouldn't be a bad vacation spot," she remarks. 

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "We'd have to climb it in the wintertime," she says. 

"I think I can manage that if my arm isn't halfway to barbeque the next time." 

Natasha snorts. Leans into Maria the tiniest bit. "It really is beautiful," she says quietly. "Not a bad place to--" 

Maria's phone blares loudly from her pocket. She rolls her eyes and answers perfunctorily, knowing it can only be Fury. "Hill." 

Minutes later she hangs up the phone. He had only confirmed what they already knew: mission accomplished. Give it another 48 hours. Natasha has been staring at her, a growing smile on her face until Maria drops the phone back in her pocket. 

"What were you saying?" Maria asks, turned to her. 

Natasha's grin turns solemn but she shakes her head, brushes Maria's chin with her thumb. "Not bad for a last place to be."


End file.
